What most of us know about Pentecost comes from its founding story in the second chapter of the book of Acts. As described there, it is a spectacular, if somewhat chaotic, event replete with tongues of flame and the sound of rushing wind. The Holy Spirit descends on the apostles, and they begin testifying in languages other than their own. This draws a crowd of Jewish pilgrims, and now each of them is hearing about God’s “deeds of power” in his or her own language.

This is a wonder.

But let’s not go there. There is a prequel to all this excitement, and it’s found in Jesus’s Farewell Discourse, covering nearly four chapters in the Gospel of John. There we discover that Pentecost does not begin in excitement but in loneliness. And before it is miraculous testimony, it is a promise given in the dark.

Image: Given how important memoir has been in your life, I find it interesting that you seemed to fall into the genre. What accounts for your decades-long fascination?

Richard Lischer: Most memoirists write at an inflection point in their lives—which is, of course, a remembered inflection point—from which they date some new understanding of themselves. The poet and preacher John Donne pointedly wrote, “I date my life from my ministry.” I completed two memoirs about my own inflection points before developing a scholarly interest in the genre. I had no institutional purpose in writing them other than the need to tell—nothing to defend, no axe to grind, no score to settle.

Spiritual memoirs have comforted this author, says Richard Lamey.

This is an engaging and inspiring book by the writer, teacher, and Lutheran minister Richard Lischer. Partly through the lens of the pandemic, he reflects deeply on memoir and autobiography, and how that tradition of writing is a blessing to the Christian reader on their own journey. We can learn how to live well from other people’s lives. We can learn confidence in God from fellow pilgrims